The Good Son

Title: The Good Son
Email: smaragdgrun@yahoo.com
Site: www.smaralda.com
Author: Smara
Disclaimer: No, thanks.
Distribution: Limited, please.
Spoilers: Fluffy Malfoy incest NC-17 chan. And - in character. Really.
Summary: Draco is a very obedient son.
Pairings: Lucius/Draco
Author Note: Written for the Merrywizards Secret Santa challenge 2003. #29
Requested: Lucius/Draco (delivered) \"Chan (Draco is 12-14), romantic
fluffy seduction or first-time fic, happy ending
essential\" (delivered) \"No scat, explicit het, angst, non-con, death,
or anything depressing\" (delivered)

--
Draco slides his feet silently across the carpet to the top of the
stairs. His mother and father have dinner guests tonight and he\'s
supposed to be in bed.

His father was adamant about it, even though his mother probably
could have been convinced to let him stay up a while longer. He sits
down quickly, ducking behind the banister as his parents and their
guests cross the hall. He sighs, careful to not be heard.

He vows that next summer, he\'ll stay up until dawn at every party.
His father is strict, but Draco has found ways over the years to
change his mind. Obedience at first, and then slow and careful
persuasion. He smiles to himself, sure it will work. Perhaps even by
the Christmas holiday.

Tonight, his mother is beautiful in a slinky silver dress which is
charmed to shimmer even when she\'s sitting still. His father looks
equally striking, all in black -- his shirt open and his hair pulled
back on this warm summer evening, his trousers fitting snugly and
tucked into black boots. Draco likes them. He decides he will have
some made like that, when he gets a bit older.

From the second floor landing, he can\'t hear what the adults are
saying in the drawing room, just the occasional echo of laughter or
clink of glasses. Soon, he\'s feeling sleepy and when his head falls
against the newel post for the second time, he gives up and goes to
bed.

When the house elves wake him the next morning, Draco has tied a
string to his toe to remember not to speak until he sees the sun. He
manages it, and his first words are, \"Felix natalis\" three times for
luck.

He dresses carefully from the clothes his mother bought for his
birthday, choosing a green shirt and lightweight summer trousers, and
loafers with no socks. He thinks this is what his father would wear,
and he is pleased to see his father similarly attired when he comes
down the stairs.

His father looks him over briefly, and then says, \"Good morning,
Draco,\" before he turns to go through the drawing room and onto the
terrace. Draco follows obediently, wanting very much to be an adult
today. He is thirteen, after all.

His mother is already there arranging flowers in a vase. With a wave
of her wand, the table is laid with all his favorite foods. She
smiles and murmurs, \"Happy Birthday, dear,\" as she gives him a brief
hug. As usual, several beautifully wrapped gifts are delivered by
owl during the meal: he is pleased with the new dress robes from his
grandmother, and intrigued by a magical sorting game from his Aunt
Gwenog. The weather is pleasant; this is turning out to be a good
birthday.

But at the end of the meal, his mother and father exchange looks.
Draco knows something is up. He says nothing, but he is reasonably
sure this is not about more gifts. His mother silently helps Draco
put away his new things; then she kisses Draco on the forehead and
tells him to go to his father in his study. From the look on her
face, he wonders if he should worry.

Draco enters the study and feels immediately more at ease; he likes
this room very much. He\'s always loved looking at the books that
line the walls, so full of things he wants to know, and the objects
that sit between the books, all simply loaded with magical mysteries.
He glances at the shelf near the door that holds the books he has
permission to read.

He\'s had many lessons in this room; he remembers his father teaching
him his first spells here. Some lessons were more difficult than
others. He\'d learned when he was expected to listen closely, and
when his father expected him to do his own research. When he needed
to repeat his father\'s words perfectly, and how to flawlessly imitate
his father\'s wand motions.

This room has always been special. When he was a child, he had spent
a lot of time playing in the afternoons in the sunlight under the big
south-facing windows. They are open this morning, and the faintest
of breezes ruffles the curtains.

\"Ah, Draco.\" His father puts down his quill and lays aside a stack
of parchment. He comes around the desk and stands in front of him.
\"So. You are a man today.\"

\"Yes, I suppose I am,\" he answers uncertainly, though he meets his
father\'s eye anyway. \"But I don\'t feel any different.\"

His father looks serious for a moment then says, \"But the day isn\'t
over yet, is it?\"

Draco wonders at this, but doesn\'t respond, because his father is
already walking over to the leather chair and sitting down. \"Come
here,\" he says.

Draco stands in front of the chair, waiting. \"Sit here,\" his father
says with some impatience, patting his thigh. But this is confusing.
Is he supposed to sit on his father\'s lap? How does that make him a
man today?

\"Come. I must talk with you, and I need you close to me.\" So Draco
gingerly climbs up and sits. His father\'s arms go around him and he
takes a deep breath. He\'s been trying so hard to be grown up lately,
and this place -- the smell of this chair, his father\'s hard chest --
the combination seems to loosen something in him, and he sinks down,
feeling relaxed for the first time in days.

\"Do you remember sitting here when you were a child?\" fathfather\'s
voice is soft in his ear. Cool fingers smooth his hair.

\"Yes,\" he whispers. He wonders vaguely where the many books his
father read to him here are now. But his thoughts are interrupted,
and he pays attention to his father\'s voice.

\"Today I have another lesson for you. But first, I need you to
relax, and I need you to answer some questions. You must be very
honest with me, Draco.\"

\"Yes, father,\" he answers, taking a deep breath and relaxing further
into his father\'s arms.

His father\'s warm hand clasps his thigh, and moves slowly up to cover
his groin. Draco blinks. Even his mother stopped touching him there
years ago.

\"What --\" he begins, but his father shushes him.

\"I know you understand sex, Draco.\" His father\'s words send his
thoughts racing. Yes; of course he does. His father explained it to
him last summer and answered all his questions. His father
continues, \"Now I need to know if you\'ve experimented with it at all.\"

Experimented? No. \"No, I --\" He stops and clears his throat. His
father\'s hand is massaging him gently, and it feels, it feels good.
\"I\'ve never even kissed a girl,\" he answers, finally.

He feels his father nod. \"Yes, I wouldn\'t expect that you had.\"
More massaging, and it\'s beginning to feel very good. \"But have you
touched yourself? Played with yourself, like this?\"

Draco opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He hasn\'t, but he is
starting to wonder why not. His father\'s hand is closing and
releasing, and his body is pulsing with it. He isn\'t sure what is
happening, only that he feels hot, and good.

\"Draco?\" His father whispers in his ear, sending a shiver down his
spine. He shakes his head in the smallest \'no\' he can, wanting
desperately not to move, or to do anything to stop the delicious
feeling.

\"Oh, lovely,\" his father breathes, and Draco doesn\'t understand. He
opens his mouth and gasps for air, the feeling building as his blood
seems to pump harder through his body. But then the hand stops and
Draco can\'t help but cry out.

\"It\'s all right,\" his father says, softly, and then opens his
trousers and tugs them down, pulling his pants down his thighs as
well. Draco shifts to allow this, holding onto his father\'s arm, and
settles back. This time, he notices a hard ridge underneath him.
Before it can really register what it is, thatis mis most likely his
father\'s prick, the warm, big, solid hand is back, this time grasping
him fully. He looks down and sees two fingers down below his balls,
and two fingers and a thumb encircling him.

\"Do you like this?\" His father\'s voice tickles him again. He jerks,
nodding. \"Tell me what you like.\"

Draco swallows, not taking his eyes from the hand on him. He isn\'t
sure he can talk.

\"Tell me,\" comes the voice again, so close to him.

Draco can see the head of his prick appear and disappear with each
stroke. \"I --\" He takes a couple of deep breaths and tries again.
\"I like you touching--\" He gasps, and says in a rush, \"I like you
touching me. Like this!\"

His father\'s thumb reaches up and swipes across the top of his prick,
and Draco can see it is wet. The strokes become harder, the pressure
more insistent. Suddenly, the feeling is enormous, and he clutches
his father\'s arm, hard, and then his whole body convulses, and he
spurts out more wetness, spilling onto his father\'s hand.

\"Yes, I can see you do.\" Draco can hear the amusement in his
father\'s voice. He can barely see, though the sun is still bright in
the room. Then he feels a shift and his father has a vial in his
hand, capturing the small amount of clear fluid that has come out of
him.

Draco is breathing regularly now, and feels that ridge underneath him
again. It feels huge against his bottom, and he wonders what it
would look like with his small hand around it.

Then his father\'s hand is back with a soft cloth, wiping him off, and
pulling his trousers back up. His father holds up the small vial to
the light, stoppered now. Draco can see the precious few drops of
sticky fluid inside. \"This is your first emission, taken on the day
you become a man. It can be used in many ways.\"

Draco nods. \"Yes, father.\" He understands that he will have to
study this and find out what those uses are.

His father puts the vial back down on the table, and shifting, Draco
rubs his bottom back and forth, just a little. He wonders if there
is any way he could make his father feel as good. \"Can I --\" he
begins, then stops. He doesn\'t want to presume.

His father shakes his head, then grasps him under the arms and helps
him stand up. \"Not today.\"

Draco gets his feet under him and fastens his trousers. He glances
down at the vial. \"You\'ll keep it safe for me?\"

\"Of course. Now run along.\" His father turns back toward the desk.

Draco takes a few steps toward the door, then stops and turns back.
\"When?\" He asks simply, knowing his father will understand.

The look in his father\'s eye is clear. \"On another birthday, Draco.
A few years from now.\" And after a meaningful pause, he adds, \"If
you want.\"

Draco nods once, turns, and leaves the study.

He wonders how long it will take him to change his father\'s mind.